Counting Stars
by Kinthinia
Summary: Years later Tony Stark is reunited with Bruce Banner, under less than ideal circumstances -someone is out for revenge and they're willing to use the Hulk to get it. No matter what the cost is on Bruce Banner's soul. Sequel to City of Angels; can be read on its own.
Tony made his way down the secret passage Jarvis had once shown him as a child. It was built in case of emergency, a secret passed down through the Stark family. He had no doubts that if dear old dad knew he was using it in order to break out and go party; he'd be rolling in his grave. But then, he didn't care either. Not even Obadiah had been trusted to know about this particular escape route. Tony chuckled under his breath –he couldn't wait to see how Obie handled all of this tomorrow. He was going to flip his shit and probably order the wall around the Stark Mansion be built another foot higher. Soon, the sun wouldn't even be able to get in through the windows. At least then it would start looking like the prison it was. Maybe _that_ would inspire someone to do something. He was so fucking tired of this.

He pushed the door open silently, easing into the courtyard. Getting out of the house was always easy –it was getting past security that could be difficult. If it was Brandt or Cross, there was no way they would let him take another step. But if Taron or Hugh were on, they'd help him get out. He peered around the pillar. Back when his father had built the mansion, this escape route would have led off the property but between his mother's renovations and Obie's, the area was now a garden surrounded by a hedge. It was pointless and lacked entirely in functionality. He'd thought about setting it on fire more than once (and he'd tried, several times, but unfortunately fire tended to draw _a lot_ of attention). No one was standing at post. He crept around the pillar and walked down the courtyard.

It was eerily quiet. His footsteps plopped and he stopped, looking down at the black liquid pooling there. He felt nausea rise. _Dark red droplets of blood exploding onto the hot, arid sand, sticking, and instantly drying._ He could almost taste the copper in the air and he stumbled back, terrified to look up. But he lifted his head. Three feet in front of him were Brandt and Hugh; their lifeless bodies stretched out along the stone walkway. Judging by the amount of blood they'd lost, they were dead. Tony drew in a lungful of air, fighting back the bile. This was not the time or place. Definitely not the time or place. It didn't stop the way his hands were shaking and it did nothing to lower his heart rate. He clenched his hands, trying to get them to stop but it was no use. No use. That was blood and those were bodies. Yep.

He gave the bodies a wide berth, approaching the entrance. Two more dead bodies. He didn't know their names –he'd never cared to learn the names of his prison wardens. He didn't feel remorse exactly. It wasn't like Obadiah had hired these goons to keep Tony safe –he'd hired the bastards to keep Tony locked up inside. He glanced at the still shut gate. He could leave now. No one would ever have to know he'd been here. No one would blame him for leaving. No one _could_ blame him for leaving. But if he left now, it wouldn't just be Obadiah he left to face whoever was here. His heart pounded. _Pepper._

Tony broke into a run, skirting around the fountain and cutting across the lawn. He raced back into the mansion and headed for the east wing –towards Obadiah and Pepper. Obadiah had hired her to both babysit Tony and to serve as his assistant. She usually hid in the library when she could; when she couldn't, she was in Obadiah's office going over whatever mundane tasks he made her do. He'd promised to protect her; a lifetime ago it felt like. But he stood by his words. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, least of all because of him. A blur of blue raced past him and before Tony knew it, he was flying through the air, and crashing back down onto the hard marble flooring. (He'd always hated marble flooring; it was ridiculously expensive and definitely his father's taste).

Tony grunted in pain, rolling onto his side, struggling to get back to his feet. A sharp boot to the side sent him rolling onto his back and he was forced to look up at his attacker's face. He was startlingly young –maybe sixteen, tops. His white blonde hair fell over his eyes and when he smiled, it was painted with cruelty. The man's blue shirt was covered in dark stains as were his hands. Tony swallowed hard –blood, he'd killed four men with his _bare hands_.

"Tony Stark," the teenager said, his voice heavily accepted. Something Eastern European, maybe. "You killed my family. Now I am here to return favor." He smiled cruelly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Tony stuttered, putting his hands up defensively. "Unless your parents worked in the Ten Rings or Hydra, I haven't killed anyone!" And in that case, they certainly deserved it.

"Was your bomb," he growled, setting his foot on Tony's chest.

"My dad's not mine," Tony wheezed out. "They make me make their bombs. I don't fire them."

The teenager scoffed. "Pretty lies. Where is proof?"

Tony grimaced. "You see the walls you scaled to get in here, the bars on every door and window? What do you think that's for –keeping people out, or keeping someone in?"

"Bah, Americans," he said, waving his hand.

Tony shoved at his foot ineffectively. "You see anywhere else in America look like this?" he hissed.

It was satisfying to watch the doubt creep into the kid's blue eyes. "No…"

"Because it's a prison. Meant to keep me in." Tony watched as the realization settled in. The kid took his foot off his chest and Tony wasted no time in sitting up, scrambling away. "I can tell you who is responsible for pushing the button, for getting those bombs made and stolen."

"Who?" demanded the teen.

"His name is Obadiah Stane," Tony growled. "And he's in his office right now, up that flight of stairs, first door on the right." _Please be in the library, Pepper. Please be safe._ "He's the one you want."

"How can I trust you?"

 _Clever kid_ , Tony thought. "Because I don't want to make bombs anymore." Yinsen's face flashed in his mind. "I don't want anyone else to die because of me." And where had that confession come from?

The assassin seemed to consider it for a long moment. "I believe you, Tony Stark. But if I hear you've been making more weapons…" The assassin shook his head. "I will be back for you and your kind." He turned towards the stairs.

"Don't hurt anyone else," Tony blurted. "Just… Obadiah."

"I am assassin, not torturer," the brat growled, disappearing up the stairs in a streak of blue.

Tony spent a minute staring after him before he got to his feet and started up the stairs. His body was on auto-pilot, urging him on even if he knew he didn't want to see what he would find upstairs. But he went anyways. He climbed each step and went straight to Obadiah's room. It felt like it took forever but he couldn't make his body go faster. He wasn't sure if he wanted to move faster. The doors were ajar, the lights off and a cold wind of air blew through the office. Papers scattered off the desk as Tony stepped in, shutting the door with the heel of his shoe. The balcony door was wide open, the thin white curtains billowing in the wind. He walked through them. Obadiah lay on the balcony, unmoving, blood pooling around his body. His heart had been ripped clean out. There was no sign of the assassin.

Tony fought with the desire to spit on his body and the need to expel the contents of his stomach. He stumbled away, back into Obadiah's office and threw up onto one of his dumb potted plants. He fumbled with the phone three times before he managed to get the right numbers. It felt surreal. Obadiah was made of flesh and bone. He was a man. And now, he was neither. He was gone. The last vestiges of his family, of his father, gone. Silently. No one had heard a thing. No one saw anything. Tony had just been going for an evening stroll and followed the trail of bodies, thought to check on his beloved guardian. Poor man was dead. Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Good riddance.

Ever since his father had died, Tony had been under Obadiah's thumb. Under his care, as the law called it. Never mind the fact that Obadiah treated Tony little better than a slave. Because the thing was, as an Omega, Tony could not inherit his father's company until he married a respectable Alpha. It had been very explicitly outlined in his father's will. At first, he'd been more than happy to carry on the family legacy. He didn't mind missing out on the fancy parties, most of the time he would rather be in his workshop tinkering. But then, the parties he did want to go to, Obadiah refused to let him attend. Obadiah always had excuses –he was worried about Tony's virginity, about keeping him pure for marriage, about how he didn't want Tony to be influenced by the rougher side of things. As though Tony hadn't spent his years at MIT partying it up. As though Tony was somehow still a virgin at nineteen. No, he was pretty sure his first time he'd been maybe fourteen. He wasn't too sure, the memory was pretty hazy. Just to spite the bastard, he'd snuck out for the first time and made sure the paparazzi found him drunk and in bed with a very willing young woman.

It got worse after that. But it wasn't like people cared. He was a precious Omega flower that needed to be protected, after all. He'd gone to the police once and he never tried again. It was a waste of time. His father's will was law anyways and it was just up to him to find someone respectable to marry. But Pepper Potts hadn't been good enough and neither had James Rhodes. So Tony just quit trying. Pepper was a prestigious graduate of Harvard, a beautiful and talented Alpha in her own right. Her family weren't the richest, but they were certainly spotless. Rhodey was a man of the military, serving his country with a spotless record –and his parents even held positions of power and wealth themselves. Obadiah had refused both of them. Tony had understood then, that Obadiah was simply going to just make Tony his slave. For the rest of his life. He wasn't a robot and he refused to be anyone's slave.

Tony watched as the police made their way into the office. Tony was sitting in Obadiah's chair, his hand around the receiver. He slowly set it down, watching with distaste as one of the specialists brought up the rear of the formation. They were specifically brought in to comfort grieving Omegas. Tony narrowed his eyes at the female officer –he was more than just his orientation. He didn't need coddling. He glanced as the other officers walked out the double doors, towards the body.

"Mr. Stark, I'm Jennifer Nolan and I have a few questions for you, if you wouldn't mind coming with me."

Tony scowled at her. "No, I'm good here."

"Mr. Stark," she started, her hands out in front of her, trying to placate him. "You've just been witness to a very traumatic event. It's okay to need time to process. But staying here right now might be more dangerous –the killer could come back."

"He's not going to come back," Tony said hollowly. "He obviously got what he came for, didn't he?" He gestured towards Obadiah's body.

Maybe he hated who Obadiah had become, but there'd been a time when Obie had just been a family friend. He'd been like an uncle when Tony was a child. Now, he wasn't so sure whether he mourned the man he knew, or whether he celebrated his inevitable freedom. Without Obadiah, there was no one else to take the reins of the company. One of the board members could try, but Howard's will also explicitly stated the company had to remain in family hands. Obadiah had been in a position of qualifications and close enough to the family to take over the company. There wasn't anyone left that Howard had been quite so close with. Stark Industries would _have_ to fall to Tony, or he would die trying.

"I think some fresh air would be good for you, Mr. Stark," tried Officer Nolan again.

Tony sneered. "I've had enough fresh air recently, thanks. In case you missed all the dead bodies out there."

"Tony!" cried a familiar voice and he looked past the Omega counsellor to find Pepper standing at the doorway, her eyes wide in concern. "Tony, what's going on?

Officer Nolan stood up, turning to face Pepper. "Excuse me, ma'am, this is a murder investigation. I'm going to have to ask for you to wait there. Officers Stanford and Jones will be by to take your statement shortly."

Pepper's eyes widened. "Obadiah?" she whispered, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

She hadn't liked the man either, but she understood the implications just as easily. Tony smiled apologetically. "Look, Nolan, I'm not going to talk to you. I'll talk to Jones or Stanford, same as her."

Officer Nolan frowned. "Are you -?"

"I'm absolutely sure," Tony ground out. Just because of some stupid biological anomaly that allowed him to have babies designated him as an Omega didn't mean he was somehow more fragile than anyone else. They wouldn't treat Pepper like this, or a Beta woman. They wouldn't treat an Alpha or Beta man like this. No, this was solely reserved for Omegas. He didn't need to be coddled.

Officer Nolan stared at him for a long, considering moment. She nodded firmly. "Okay."

And just like that, she went out and brought the two officers inside. Officer Jones went to speak with Pepper and Officer Stanford approached Tony. "You're looking awfully pale there, officer," Tony joked, grateful that he wasn't the only one who hadn't been able to stand the sight of Obadiah's body like that. He let the smile slip off his face. As happy as he was about Obadiah's death, he _did_ mourn the man Obadiah had been before. And Officer Stanford was looking a little suspicious.

"The killer, I saw him," Tony admitted roughly. "I was going out tonight, and that's when I saw the bodies. I followed the blood and I thought –I thought, what if Obadiah is in trouble? He's got the money and all the holdings, after all. I saw him go in. White-blonde hair, but like a bad dye job, brown underneath. Blue track shirt, yoga pants or something. Maybe seventeen years old? Eastern European accent, my height." Tony closed his eyes. "By the time I came in, he was already like that. Dead, heart ripped out. Nobody in sight."

Later, his innocence would be verified. There was no blood on him other than the bottom of his shoes and with the coroner's statement of time of death, it was obvious Tony wouldn't have had time to change or clean up if he had been the murderer. Within three hours, they had sorted everything that they needed and were gone. The board was up in arms, but Pepper was nothing if not a master at her job and placated them while Rhodey brought the Stark Industry lawyers in to play ball with Howard Stark's lawyer. Forty-eight hours later and the stalemate broke. Tony Stark was officially the CEO of Stark Industries. It was that or the company slip from the hands of the Stark family and if there was one thing his father would have hated, it would have been that. However, he had been strongly cautioned that it would look much better if he got married and settled down within a year as most of the board members were staunch conservatives who would rather die than see an unwed Omega at the helm for so long.

The first thing he did was phone Pepper and ask for a press conference. It was probably the shortest press conference he'd ever held. Maybe the only one he'd called for himself. But it was the most important one. His days in Afghanistan had been eye opening, to say the least. So he closed the weapons development and manufacturing and announced it to the world. He refused to answer any questions, drove home and changed into the most expensive suit he owned. It was tailored and made of silk and while it wasn't the most modern outfit he owned, it suited his purposes just fine. He drove down into the heart of Malibu and went clubbing. Fuck Obadiah and his rules, fuck his father and his will and most of all, fuck his fucking fiancé. He had things to do and no one was going to stop him from living his life. He had several points he wanted to make. Omegas could have fun, sex would not ruin an Omega and he didn't need _anyone_ telling him what, or who, to do.

He rented a room at the nearest Hilton and left the first club with Marilyn and Marcia –they were twins. One of them was a gymnastics teacher, the other practiced yoga. It had been pretty back bending, but only in the best ways. He didn't even know it was possible to fuck someone who was folded in half, but damn, was it hot. He left them to get cleaned up and find their way home before going to the second club. And wow, what a time that was. Jacob and Henry got the nicest tour of his hotel room he'd ever given anyone. They fucked on the bed, on the counter top, on the couches, against the wall _and_ against the door. The third club? The third club, he took Lucy, her husband Joe and their friend Silvia back to his room. And boy was that more of a mess than he'd expected but he was pretty drunk. Future note: don't go for the husband and wife combos; they can be pretty fucked up themselves. Lucy just wanted an excuse to fuck Silvia and Joe just wanted someone to dominate him. It was hot sex and a free porno. Win/win.

The fourth club he vaguely remembered getting a blowjob in a bathroom –classy, really. He wasn't sure how many glasses he'd actually had at that point. At the fifth club, he took Ambre, Serena, Tyrone and Sam back to his hotel room. He didn't actually remember what they did that night, but come morning it was the hottest sex of his life, even if he did end up with a knee in his back and an elbow against his neck. The sixth club was some cheap twenty-four joint that was pretty dead inside. Of course it was, considering it was about midafternoon. At some point, Tony had lost his silk jacket so he walked into the Blue Rose wearing just his white button-up and silk slacks that only looked tastefully debauched. His tailor really was the best; he'd have to give him a bigger tip when he saw him again. The dancefloor was barren, so Tony grabbed a glass of orange juice and sprite and sat down next to the only other patron in the club.

The guy was maybe twenty-six, with curly black hair and big puppy dog eyes. He did not look like he belonged in a club –in fact; he had probably never been in a club before. He was wearing an oversized sweater and loose jeans. He looked like some kind of an escaped graduate student that the laboratory had seen fit to free for a few hours. His hair was sticking up in all directions, rogue curls poking out here and there. His beard was impressive, like maybe he hadn't shaved in a week. At least he smelled clean. If he hadn't, Tony would have been hard pressed on guessing whether he was homeless or a graduate student.

"There're one hundred and sixty-four other seats and you choose to sit beside me," the guy said, glancing at him accusingly.

Tony made a show of scanning the club, like he hadn't noticed any of the other seats earlier. "Wow, that's a lot of seats. Plenty of empty space," he agreed. "What're you doing in a club at this time of day? You've missed the best hours of partying."

The guy rolled his eyes and covered a yawn. "Maybe I've been here all night."

"You lasted, what, eight, ten hours in here without getting a spill or somehow ending up smelling of sweat and booze? Consider me impressed."

The guy finally cracked a smile, albeit a tired one. "Yeah, that sounds about right," he said, stretching. "I came in here for a coffee," he admitted, waving his mug in Tony's direction.

It was indeed coffee. "You came into a club for coffee?"

His ears turned pink. "I usually go to the café down the street, but they're under renovations. So I just… ended up here." He took a drink of his coffee. "And you can't exactly judge. You look like you're trying too hard to find a party."

Tony shrugged, taking a drink of his orange sprite. "I'm just looking for a good time."

The guy smiled amusedly. "Well, you aren't going to find it here." He gestured at the empty seats and dancefloor.

"Who says I haven't already found it?" Tony retorted playfully, watching in delight as the guy's cheeks went bright pink like the rest of his face. He took a moment to cast his eyes down, checking him out thoroughly.

"Oh. Um. Wow. You're very straightforward."

To be fair, he was also pretty hung over. Tony flashed the guy a wink. But hey, straightforward usually worked. In fact, ninety percent of the time all he had to do was use his name and he had a line-up of men and women to choose from. But this guy didn't have the same star struck look in his eyes as he considered Tony's offer.

"I don't even know your name," he said at last.

"Sometimes the mystery makes it better," Tony said, wanting to cling to his anonymity for a while longer. "Adds more appeal."

"I think it just makes you look like a pompous ass," the guy said, finishing his coffee.

"Well, you're not wrong," Tony muttered, watching as the guy got to his feet.

The guy grabbed his coat, pulling it over his shoulder as he pulled out his wallet and counted the change. He set it on the counter, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. He walked away. Tony sighed softly –his game must be getting pretty weak. Maybe name dropping would have been better. Lately though, the only thing anyone wanted to ask him about was Afghanistan and whether it was connected to his change in the company's direction. Two things he didn't want to talk about. He'd taken to bringing all the ones who didn't ask him about it back to bed, as a reward of sorts. Eventually the conversation would die down. He took another drink of his orange sprite, glancing at the bartender.

"Are you coming?" called the other guy impatiently and Tony whirled around to find that the possible grad student was waiting for him expectantly at the door.

Tony threw a fifty dollar bill onto the counter without looking and hurried to catch up to his hot stranger. "Definitely coming," he said, grinning at him.

The stranger rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I figured my place is closer than wherever you're from."

"I would have brought you back to my room," Tony said defensively.

"My terms or not at all," the guy said, glancing at him with a smirk.

Well, this was certainly more exciting than what he'd been expecting even if it was just one person. Honestly, after this morning, one person was more than enough. He was pretty sure he had a set of bruises on his back and neck from all the knees and elbows. Orgies were not as coordinated as they appeared to be in porn. It had been an enjoyable time nonetheless though. A good way to celebrate his newfound independence and freedom. His new companion led him across the street to a nearby apartment building and Tony was pretty sure that one of Los Angeles' universities was only a stone's throw away. Graduate student indeed. He followed the guy into his apartment and was not surprised by the disaster zone he walked in on. Definitely a grad student –he could remember his years in MIT being surrounded by guys whose apartments and dorm rooms looked like a bomb explosion of dirt and empty food containers had gone off.

"Don't mind the mess. I was working on a project." He led him through the trail of destruction to a slightly cleaner and more presentable bedroom.

"What's your project?" Tony asked.

The guy smiled amusedly. "I'd love to tell you. But it'll probably take more time than you have to explain it."

Tony grinned at him challengingly. "Oh really? Try me."

The sixth club, he was brought back to a guy's apartment where they spent the next eight hours discussing the guy's thesis project. It was complicated, but fascinatingly so. The guy was doing some work on gamma radiation that could be game changing if he could definitively prove his theory.


End file.
